


Right Back Where We Started From

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: The OC (TV)
Genre: 3x07, Anger, Anger Management, Drabble, Episode: s03e07 The Anger Management, F/M, Marissa Mention, Punching, Release of Bottled Up Feelings, Trey Mention, rambles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 01:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: A short drabble about Ryan and his punching bag, set in season three episode seven.





	Right Back Where We Started From

Ryan stared at the punching-bag as it swung a little with the momentum of his controlled punch. The material was harder than he remembered. He had thrown his punch carelessly, not thinking particularly about anything.

But then his mind wandered and he thought about what Marissa had said, and so he punched it a little harder. _“It wasn’t your fault._ ” His eyes followed as the bag moved again. _“You’ve changed. I’m proud of that.”_ He felt something rising up from the pit of his stomach, he felt it bubble over and spill out through his fists as he punched again and again. 

It chaffed the skin of his knuckles but the feeling, this feeling, deep inside, it overpowered anything else. All he felt was this energy.

So he kept punching.

The bag swung backwards and forwards but Ryan didn’t wait for the momentum to die down, he just kept on throwing more punches. He didn’t care about form, he never really did, although there was something nice about the way a well formed punch felt. But it wasn’t about how it felt, not in that moment. He just wanted it out. Whatever it was, sitting in the pit of his stomach, he needed it out. He kept punching, the extension of his arm releasing it just a little bit more each time. 

But then, all of a sudden, he was hitting Trey.

He was hitting him, again and again, in the mouth, in the nose. He felt Trey’s bone and skin crack and peel under his knuckles. He felt Trey’s jaw dislocate, all the while his deep eyes only stared back. 

But then he was hitting his dad. 

He kept throwing fists all over the place, the smell of booze suddenly overtook the room. It filled his nostrils. It was all he could smell, all he could taste. His dad stumbled with each blow and Ryan couldn’t stop himself.

He kept hitting his dad until his dad turned into his mom. He hit his mom. And then she turned into Marissa and he hit her. 

And then it was just a swinging bag again. And the blood oozed from his knuckles and ran down his wrists. All that filled the night was the slow creak of the bag swinging to a stop and the out-of-breath huffs that expelled from Ryan’s mouth. 

His chest rose and fell as he continued staring at the punching-bag. It was just a bag. Just a bag, now, and he hadn’t hit anyone. He hadn’t hit anyone. 


End file.
